Greatly Exaggerated
by jibber59
Summary: They always knew it could happen to any of them - they live in a dangerous world. But when the news comes they always feared, can they face a new reality?
1. Chapter 1

"Buck, I swear to you it's true."

"JD, you have got to stop watching all those poltergeist and ghost story shows. You're starting to sound crazy!"

"Starting?"

JD scowled at Nathan. "Don't tell me you don't believe either? But they've got scientific proof of this stuff. Scans and reading and such."

Buck Wilmington laughed. "And you're supposed to be our computer expert? You know better than any of us how that crap can be manipulated. You told me yourself you could set up programs to fake out anybody. Like you do when Ezra goes undercover."

"Yeah, but that's different." Dunne was starting to lose a bit of his enthusiasm. He hadn't expected such a negative reaction when he told his fellow ATF agents about the haunted house outside of town. There had been a full feature on it the previous night on TV, and he was trying to convince them to go check it out themselves.

"JD, even if we did to out there, the place is likely going to be overrun with other folk who saw the show. Likely to scare of any ghosts that might be there."

"That mean you believe there are ghost there Vin?" At least Tanner was on his side!

"Didn't say that. Just saying, IF there is anything there, it won't want to play tour guide to a bunch of ghost hunters."

"You guys have no sense of adventure," their youngest agent pouted. "Ezra's go with me if he was here."

"Ezra would tell you to stop thinking such foolishness." Nathan corrected.

"No – he believes. Told me himself about all the ghost that haunt a lot of the old plantation homes in the south. Says he heard more than a few of them growing up around there."

"Sure he wasn't just pulling your leg a little?"

"Ah Vin, he wouldn't do that." He paused, looking a bit puzzled. "Would he?"

They all laughed at the slightly wounded look on the young man's face, but the laughter died quickly when Chris entered the room. The look on his face said trouble, in no uncertain terms. The fact he was followed by Judge Travis, retired court officer and currently District supervisor for the ATF, and a man in what could only be seen as an FBI issue suit only confirmed that interpretation.

Larabee looked around the room at his men, and when he was sure he had everyone's attention he nodded to the Judge, who spoke.

"Gentlemen, this is Agent Carlson – FBI. He's ranking officer on a task force working in the region on smuggling issues. Specifically, his operation deals with human smuggling. He came to me about an hour ago to update me on the case they are working in the area. Seems we have been at cross purposes without knowing it. They've got a man inside a local operation, as do we."

Every eye in the room snapped to the Bureau agent. Ezra was their man on the inside on a local smuggling operation, and suddenly the air in the room got very still.

"Before I go into details I want to make two things absolutely clear." Carlson could feel the anxiety from each of the agents in front of him, and he didn't blame them. He was well aware of the history between Standish and the bureau, and the fact he was undercover on an operation they were now involved in could easily have been cause for concern.

"First, the FBI and ATF were both unaware of the other's involvement in this case Neither party knew that we were both going after Anderson and his operation. It shouldn't have happened. Somewhere along the way the communication liaisons broke down, and I assure you we will find out why.

Second. I have worked with Ezra Standish in the past. I believe him to be one of, if not the best undercover operative I've encountered. I also believe him to be above reproach. Always did. I told anyone who would listen to me at the time that the accusations against him were absurd. He was far too honourable a man to be corrupted, and far too smart to have been so careless as to be caught if he had been so inclined. I think the FBI was short-sighted and just stupid to let him leave."

He was fairly certain he could actually feel the lessening of the pressure in the room when he finished his introduction. He hated like hell that that was about to change. He looked over to Chris, who gave him a small nod of encouragement.

"I received a call from our man in the operation a couple of hours ago. He wanted an emergency meeting and it was arranged. He informed me of Standish's presence in the organization, and that he had spoken with him."

"This guy work with Ezra in the past? Ya trust him?" When Carlson stared at him for a moment, Buck took the cue to introduce himself, and the others.

"No, he didn't work with him, and yes I trust him implicitly. He found out about Standish when Anderson informed him late last night that there was a Fed in their operation. At first he assumed his own cover had been blown, until he was told his assignment was to kill your man."

"Shit."

"Indeed Mr. Dunne. I would say that covers it quite well."

"You said they talked – how and about what?" Vin demanded.

"My man implied that he thought he could find out what Standish had reported on, so he was given a few minutes to – interrogate him. Let Standish know he'd volunteer to be the one to take him away for further questioning, and they'd fix his escape.'

"So you need us to co-ordinate that. Arrest them both or something?" Nathan questioned.

"No, Mr. Jackson. Your colleague did not agree to that course of action."

"Course not." Josiah mumbled. "Never do anything the easy way. Or God forbid, by the book."

"He didn't want to compromise the lives of the young women Anderson is currently holding hostage. He told my man he believed had found their location. If anything were to go wrong, such as his escape, he feared the women – girls – would be killed. He indicated he'd known earlier in the day his cover might have been compromised, but wouldn't risk their safety. He felt as long as Anderson knew where he was, the girls remained safe."

"Wait – back up. Young girls? Anderson is smuggling weapons." Ezra had gone into the operation to as a go-between for a foreign cartel interested in American guns. This was the first any of them had heard about human smuggling being involved.

"Anderson traffics in anything he can find a market for, including kids. In this case, young girls. Runaways he grabs off the street. They end up in foreign countries, sold to the highest bidder. Some of them are no more that 11 or 12."

"Bastard."

"Again, an understatement Mr. Dunne. And apparently Standish felt the same way. Until he could assure the safety of these children, he would not agree to an escape."

"OK – so Anderson has Ezra. Why are we just sitting here Chris?" Nathan demanded of their leader.

Travis answered instead. "Because the report isn't over."

Carlson took control of the room back. "Thanks to Standish's information my man was able to provide us with the details of the girls' location, and I passed them along to our tactical team. A rescue operation is underway as we speak. I expect to hear shortly of the outcome.

My man reported to Anderson he'd had little success, and suggested taking Standish elsewhere for further questioning. Apparently, Anderson didn't feel that was necessary." He paused, swallowing hard. Unable to look at any of them, he focused on a notice on the back wall bulletin board instead. "Anderson had your agent brought back into the room, pulled his weapon and shot him. Killed him."

"NO!" Buck jumped to his feet. The others were still – tableau still. They stared at Carlson, waiting for a punch line, waiting for a 'but we broke in on time' or 'my man got him to the hospital' but there was nothing. Buck took a menacing step toward the FBI agent but the Judge stepped in between.

"Wilmington – Buck. It's not his fault." Buck turned and walked to stand beside JD, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. He looked up, eyes damp. "What are we gonna do Buck? What do we do without him?" The older man just shook his head.

Nathan was the next to find his voice. "Is he sure? Is your man sure?"

"It was a head shot. One of Anderson's lackeys has already – disposed of…" he found he couldn't finish the thought.

"Where?" There was no response. "Damn it Carlson. Find out where. We are not leaving Ezra dumped in the middle of nowhere or in some unmarked grave. We are bringing him home so you get in touch with your man and have him find out where or so help me…" Chris left the threat unfinished, but there was no doubt as to its sincerity.

"As soon as the rescue operation is completed I intend to do just that. I am not doing anything to compromise that. Ezra died protecting those girls Larabee, and I for one intend to do everything in my power to make sure that action was not for nothing. He was my friend to, back in the day."

Chris took a deep breath, and turned away. "OK then."

 ** _M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7_**


	2. Chapter 2

Hours later the six remaining members of team 7 sat quietly in the conference room. The TV was on in the corner, reporting on the FBI raid that had rescued 8 girls being held hostage in what appeared to be an international slavery ring. Additional footage saw Jacob Anderson, local businessman and community leader, being escorted in handcuffs out of his offices. The volume was turned low, as they'd heard the report several times now.

"Ezra won't even get acknowledged, will he?" JD asked. "He'll never get credit for what he did."

"Wouldn't want it." Buck answered. "For all his show and his flash, he'd never want that kind of attention. He'd say he was just doin' his job, and you don't seek credit for that."

"Still don't make it right."

"No," Josiah agreed. "It doesn't. But it does make if very Ezra-like. Much more under the surface than anyone else would ever see."

Chris walked over to the window, quietly moving beside the man already standing there.

"You're awful quiet Vin. Don't think I've heard a word out of you since…" he left the rest hanging.

"Not too much needs to be said."

"Still."

"Chris – I don't need to talk about anything right now. Just need to find him. Ain't right he's just left out there. Just need to find him, then I'll worry about the rest."

Not knowing what else there was to add, Larabee rested a hand on the younger agent's shoulder.

"We're gonna bring him home Vin. Nothing else happens until we get him back."

Nathan spoke from the far side of the room. "Anybody know where his mother is?"

"Somewhere in Europe I think." Buck answered. "She's with a count or something last time he said anything. Course, that does mean it's where she is now. Probably something in his emails, maybe at the condo. I can go take a look for info."

JD looked up surprised. "Come on Buck – you know Ezra will be pissed if you go through – "he stopped, realizing what he was saying, and his face fell. "Shit." Buck stood and moved beside his young friend. "I know JD – it's gonna take some getting used to."

A phone call interrupted their private wake, and Chris grabbed at it. "OK – No, don't send anyone yet…OK, but don't let them go near. We go in first. We bring him home. This is NOT up for discussion Carlson. I don't care what your supervisor wants. He wants to play hardball now? Fine. We go in first, or we go to the media. Tell them it wasn't FBI, that you guys are taking credit for the actions of an ATF hero. How does that sound for a news bite? Fine. We'll be there in 20."

No one needed to ask. The quietly picked up their jackets and headed to the cars, getting ready to bring their colleague, their friend, home.

 _7-7-7-7-7-7-7_

A country road, hilly terrain. Tall grass and weeds, and wildlife that would scavenge. The ideal spot to dispose of evidence. The scene wasn't hard to locate, what with FBI vehicles and the coroner's wagon parked to the side. Local law enforcement was there too, acting as guardians keeping media and rubberneckers away. Despite the level of activity and the number of personnel, the area was strangely quiet – subdued.

The six were slow to walk to the scene, in no rush to face the inevitable. Carlson was there, and watched as they approached. He'd been talking to a younger man who was leaning heavily against the trunk of his car, looking like a lost soul. He pushed himself away from the vehicle and squared up his shoulders. Recognizing a leader when he saw one, he walked up to Larabee.

"Sir, my name is Roger Taylor. I was the undercover operative for the Bureau on this job. There is not one damn thing I can say to make this right, and if any or all of you want to take a swing at me I will neither stop you or report it. I wish to God things had turned out differently."

Chris looked at the agent, reading the pain in his eyes, and then looked back at his men. Josiah walked up to Taylor, clamping a large hand on his shoulder. To his credit, the young man didn't flinch. "Ezra trusted you to get the important job done. You did. You need to know he'd be ok with that. We can try to be too. But I think you'll understand if we ask you to get the hell out of here now."

Taylor nodded and turned away. A few steps later he turned back. "I know I don't have to tell you this, but he was one hell of an agent. Wish I'd known him better." He left, head down.

Chris lead the sombre parade over to Carlson.

"OK Agent Larabee, we respected your wishes. Nobody has gone down there yet. All we know is he was – he was tossed from the car around dawn this morning along this curve."

Vin winced. That meant there'd been about 12 hours that he'd been lying there – and there were a lot of scavengers in these parts. That wasn't right. "We're wasting daylight." He headed for the hill and the others let him go first. If anyone could spot a hint of a trail to find Ezra, he was the one to do it. He scanned the sloping terrain, looking for any signs of disturbance in the area. His eye settled on grass that was bending and broken, and he headed in that direction. After a moment, the others followed, keeping their distance back to allow the tracker the space to do the job right.

Each man was left to his own thoughts, his own memories and his own regrets. Things said, or not said permeated their consciousness. JD recalled that he still owed Ezra from their last poker game together. It stabbed at him to realize that had in fact been their last poker game. Maybe his last ever, since he couldn't imagine again enjoying Ezra's favorite pastime. Nathan was thinking on the exchanges they'd had on a book both reading and had radically divergent opinions of. That wasn't really a surprise; the two rarely agreed on anything. Over time those differences had become the catalyst for numerous philosophical and moral confrontations which had grown friendlier with each debate. God – he was going to miss those 'deliberations'. Buck was revisiting the last time he'd tried to convince the avowed city boy to join them on a fishing trip, and the variety of ways Ezra had described his distaste for the idea. The man had a unique way of voicing displeasure. Josiah couldn't help but wonder how his friend would be reacting to the discovery that there was something waiting for him on the other side. The two had often debated matters of faith and devotion, and while the southerner firmly held that Josiah was completely misguided in his beliefs, he nevertheless respected his dedication. Chris was focused on nothing more than ensuring Ezra be given the respect he deserved, not just in having his body found, but in getting recognition for his final act. He knew the undercover operator loathed such attention, but he damned well was going to get it for this.

They were sufficiently lost to their own contemplations they failed to notice immediately when Vin came to an abrupt stop. He was far enough ahead of them that it was only when he spoke that they came around, taken more by what he said than the fact he'd said anything.

"You have got to be kidding me. Damn well shoulda known you couldn't do anything the way you're supposed to you stupid son-of-a-bitch." He turned to the others with a face splitting smile. "Get a stretcher down here. Nathan, I think Ezra would appreciate your help."

It took their healer a moment to register what was being said before he charged past the others, dropping beside the wounded man. Dried blood covered the left side of his face and neck, and had dripped down to stain his shirt. He'd somehow managed to drag himself to a position he could be leaning against a tree, staying out of the sun for most of the day.

He looked up at his team mates, eyes slightly unfocused and head unsteady. "I appear to have been ineffective in my determination to ascend this precipitous terrain. Dreadfully dizzy." The speech was slurred and his face was ghostly pale. The effort to speak was enough to exhaust him as he started to tip sideways. Vin was there immediately to keep him from hitting the ground. "Hang in there Pard. You made it this far, don't you quit now."

"I have no intention of quitting anything Mr. Tanner. Standish's don't quit. We do, however, occasionally rest." He tilted his head onto Vin's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"OK, Ez, but just a quick nap." He looked to Nathan.

"Pulse is good, pupils are a bit off, but better than you'd think. How the hell is this possible?" He turned. "And where the hell is the stretcher." The frozen men were spurred to action by the shout. Buck stampeded up the hill for assistance, shouting the news ahead to the stunned ensemble waiting. The rest of the team moved to get closer, but kept back on the signal from Nathan. Chris did move in, and rested a hand on Ezra's leg. His eyes opened briefly, acknowledging the contact. "You just take it easy now. We got you. Can't wait to hear this story."

"And I shall regale in sharing it my friend." He swallowed and tried to regain focus. "The girls?"

Chris grinned. "You did real good Ezra. They're all safe."

"Splendid." He looked to their leader. "Not going anywhere Mr. Larabee. Jus' gonna nap for a bit now." He closed his eyes as he saw the smile cross Chris's face.

"No Ezra, you've got to try to stay awake. Ezra?" Nathan words fell on deaf ears. The stretcher bearers arrived, followed closely by Carlson and Taylor, both with stunned looks on their faces.

"But I saw them shoot him. In the head. He went down and there was blood…"

Buck grinned. "Ah hell, we shoulda known it would take a lot more that a bullet to the head to bring down our boy. He's too damn stubborn and thick skulled for something that simple to stop him."

"But he was shot in the head! What the hell?"

"Agent Taylor." The bewildered young FBI agent looked to Josiah. "I think it might be easier if you simply choose to accept that for such an incredibly unfortunate man when it comes to being wounded, Ezra Standish is indeed the luckiest man on earth. That is the paradox that makes him who he is."

"But…I don't…" he sighed. "How?"

"Is that the voice of the man who was witness to my unpleasant failure on this assignment?" His voice was weak with exhaustion as it rose from the stretcher.

"I didn't see any failure sir. I saw a man sacrificing himself to save others. Damnedest thing I ever saw, I gotta say. Only failure I can tell of seems to be in the bullet they fired."

"It all went well?"

"Yeah – thanks to you."

"To you's'well, and de job you'd..." Ezra's speech was slurring again.

"Well, let's discuss that at some future time. Think your friends would like to take you to the hospital now, which I'd say is a damn good idea."

"I am too fatigued to quarrel" he mumbled, falling asleep once again.

Not one of the men climbing the hill could begin to force the grin off his face.

 ** _M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7_**


	3. Chapter 3

"It is basically a question of determining how and when to reposition oneself to best to elude any projectile JD, nothing more I assure you. There is really nothing remarkable about my survival in this so called ordeal."

"Nothing remarkable?" the young man responded. "Really. Shot in the head, dumped from a moving car down a hill, left out there for 12 hours – no. Nothing at all remarkable in any of that. Buck, explain it to the man please."

"Sorry Kid, that is beyond my language skills. Ezra doesn't want to admit that this is one of Josiah's miracles, I can't be changing his mind. I'm just glad he's around to fight with!"

"I simply cannot comprehend why you all choose to deem this escapade to be worthy of such consideration. It was nothing more than a flesh wound, if I may be permitted to use the vernacular in this circumstance."

"Pard, you can use whatever you want. Just enjoying hearing you talk."

"Really Vin? Because most of you commonly would indicate a preference that I cease my rhetoric by this juncture in my convalescence.

"What can we say Ezra - this one's a bit different."

On his first full day of consciousness after 36 hours for drifting in and out, Ezra was surrounded by the rest of his team. The FBI's investigating officers had come and gone, taking a rather limited statement from the recovering agent. His memory of the details was still sketchy, and because of Taylor's report, there really wasn't the need for an in depth interview, so it had been an easy session for him. Now, after another brief nap, he was anxiously awaiting the arrival of his doctor, with the intention of convincing the woman to let him go home.

"So you're going to insist this was just a matter of ducking at the right time?"

"Well Nathan, you heard the doctor herself confirming this trifle of an injury was nothing more than a graze. It all derives from to rotating one's head at the precise moment. That way the projectile merely skims across the surface, resulting in sufficient blood to look daunting, without actually causing any injury."

"I substantiated no such claim Mr. Standish, and I will thank you not to misconstrue my diagnosis in such a cavalier manner." Dr. Cavanaugh stood in the door.

"She talks as fancy as you do Ezra – you may have met your match." Vin laughed.

"I am simply attempting to reassure my compatriots of the inconsequentiality of the wound."

"Well you'd being lying to them. Your 'trifle' was a skull fracture resulting in a concussion. In addition, you suffered blood loss and it would appear you have elected to overlook the fact you have been unconscious for most of the over 48 hours since you were shot. You also have multiple contusions and abrasions from tumbling ass over teakettle down that hill. So, in answer to the question I know you are about to pose – no you cannot go home."

Chris broke into a wide smile as he looked at the others. "Oh – I like her. She's good."

"I doubt you would be quite so taken if this vitriol was aimed in your direction Christopher."

"It is not vitriol Mr. Standish. I am your doctor, and I know what is best for you. However, out of respect for the nursing staff on the floor, and in deference to their sanity, I will agree to allowing you to leave tomorrow. Providing there are no changes to the pace of your improvement. And providing you can convince one or more of these gentlemen to take on what I am sure will be the rather daunting and stressful task of ensuring you follow the rules I will insist upon." She looked to Larabee for confirmation.

"We will arrange something to spare your staff the nightmare of dealing with him any longer than need be. We get how challenging that can be."

"You all do recollect I am present in the room, listening to all of this? So wonderful to find your true feelings toward me in my hour of need."

"Take it easy for the day Mr. Standish, and I will be by in the morning to sign your release."

Ezra dropped his routine for the briefest of moments. "I do thank you for all you did for me Doctor. I deeply appreciate the fact I am able to go home in one piece."

"You had more to do with that than I did, but you're welcome." She smiled at him before turning to leave.

"You just can't turn off that southern charm can you?" Buck chuckled.

"Jealous?"

"Ridiculous." He was hardly about to admit it.

"Well gentlemen, I trust you will understand if I request to be allowed to rest and recuperate further in order to be permitted to escape this confinement for the comforts of my home tomorrow."

"My home Ezra." Chris corrected. "You'll be spending a few days at the ranch. And, if I hear one word of argument, we will tell the good doctor that we can't keep an eye on you and you'll have to stay here instead."

Knowing when he was holding a losing hand, Ezra folded quickly. "I will accede to your request, at least for 48 hours. After that, I would hope we can re-evaluate the situation. I'm sure you all have far more important things to deal with that watching over me due to a minor abrasion."

Nathan finally lost the ability to hold his temper. "It was no abrasion Ezra. Or scratch or scrape or graze or nick. **You. Were. Shot**. In the head. The fact you didn't die like we were told is nothing shy of a miracle."

They were all grateful Ezra was not standing at that moment as they saw the colour drain from his face and his body go limp. "Dead? You were told…you thought I was dead?"

"Well yeah." Buck was surprise their friend hadn't known that. "Taylor saw you shot and was told you were dumped. What else would we think?"

"But, I had no idea. It never occurred to me that you had been so misinformed. I deeply regret that I have been so dismissive in light of this turn of events." He looked at Chris. "I'm sure your superiors were less than pleased that all the effort in the investigation was for naught with my perceived death. That my negligence would result in having to start all over –"

"What the hell are you talking about? What negligence? Never mind – not important. Nobody gave a rat's ass about the case Ezra. You seriously think that was the problem?" Chris was stunned.

"Well certainly it was a concern. Although I will admit with as much humility as possible, that the loss of an undercover operative with my expertise, not that it was evident on this venture, would also be a blow to the team."

Vin starred at him, slowly rising to his feet and moving to within a foot of his bedside. "You're serious here. You really don't get it, do you? The case, the job, the ATF. None of that matters. WE thought YOU were dead. Our friend. Hell man, our family. We thought you were dead. Do you really have such a piss-poor opinion of yourself that you don't understand what that meant to us? What that means to us?"

Ezra was, for once in his life, speechless. He looked at the shocked and hurt looks on the faces of his teammates. JD and Josiah had tears in their eyes, and he feared he was close to such a state himself. Buck's head was down, shaking softly from side to side in disbelief. The others were similarly muted by emotions.

"I am sorry. I didn't – I don't understand. I cannot say that I have ever had a circumstance where anyone cared about whether Ezra Standish – the man – survived the day. It is an unusual situation for me to accept. I cannot comprehend this."

"How would you have felt if you'd been told Vin was dead? Or Buck, or JD or –"

"Yes Chris, I understand your question. And it would kill a part of my soul. You are all more important me than any others have ever been, and the loss of any of you would cut me more than even I can express."

"So why is it so hard for you to see it from our side?"

They could hear the ticking of a clock as the silence shrouded the room. Finally, he spoke very softly. "Because I believe Vin was correct."

Vin cast his mind back to what he'd said, then fought the lump in his throat. "Shit Ezra. Who the hell convinced you that you were worthless?"

"And would you mind if we beat the crap out of him for a while?" Buck added.

Josiah looked into the wounded man's eyes, then turned to Buck sadly. "Don't think that would work friend. No matter how much you may think it was deserved, you could never hit a lady. And regardless of his personal conflict, I don't image Ezra would want you hitting his mother, would you son?"

There was no response from the bed. Vin found he was repeating himself, loudly.

"Well Shit Ezra. Sorry – but she ain't no lady, and not much of a mother if that's true."

"I would request of you sir to not speak that way about her. She may not be the iconic representation of motherhood you all are familiar with, but she is all the family I have."

"No she's not Ezra." Nathan countered, equally disturbed by what he was hearing. "You've got six brothers right here. And if it takes our dying breath, we will convince you of that.

"Ezra?" Vin's voice was gentler now. "Please look at me Ezra." He slowly raised his eyes, but couldn't get the internal strength to look Vin in the eyes. He couldn't deal with the pity that would be there. Be on all of their faces. "I'm truly sorry. I had no right to say that. I may not think much of some things your mother did, but I have to be grateful to her. Cause without her, there wouldn't be you, and none of us would be as good as we are now."

Ezra didn't risk speaking. He did force himself to lift his gaze to meet Vin's, and was relieved to see nothing but sincerity in those eyes. He looked away again, swallowing several times and clearing his throat before trying to speak.

"Gentlemen, I find I must be truly exhausted, as I cannot think of an appropriate response at this time, and I do not believe you have ever known me to be so thoroughly at a loss for words. And to have it occur twice in one day is a deplorable circumstance. Might I ask you to leave me to rejuvenate myself, and possibly address this issue again at some future date?"

"I think what you are saying here is you want to sleep and we'll talk later. Why can't you just make it easy for poor old Buck to understand you Ez?" JD set out to provoke his friend with a good natured smirk.

"I understood him just fine Kid. Ezra and me are kindred spirits that way – right pal?"

"Indubitably sir." Buck's eyebrow arched briefly and quite deliberately in puzzlement at the response.

"We will talk Ezra." Chris insisted quietly. "We need to."

"I accept that. Perhaps in a few days? At the ranch?"

A sense of contentment settled over the room as they watched their friend – their brother – doze off again. Family wasn't always easy, but it was always worth the effort.

 ** _The End. (For now)_**


End file.
